“No vacancy? One would not get in with the help of a friend like you, Ellen. I should like it, you know.”
“Impossible,” said Ellen, firmly.
“I thought so. Well, never mind. You were speaking about parties and wine—champagne, perhaps?”
“Plenty of it—like water, in fact—that is, when she’s away.”
“But how do you get it?”
“She takes the keys of the wine-cellar, of course, but careful as a woman can be, such things will sometimes be mislaid or lost. Hers got lost one day. She had to get a locksmith and have another made. Singular, wasn’t it? but weeks after I found that very key in my pocket.”
“Very singular,” said Jane demurely.
“Isn’t it, now? but our little parties have gone off splendidly ever since.”
“I should think so,” said Jane; “I only wonder you never thought to invite me.”
“Couldn’t,” answered Ellen, shaking her head. “The aristocracy would have turned up its nose clear through the basement. Nothing but first-class ladies and gentlemen get into these little swarrys,—ladies’ maids, footmen, and so on,—awfully rechercher, I can tell you. Why, some of us wear real diamonds; I don’t, for my duties are down-stairs, but you may bet on it the girls that take care of their mistress’s things shine now and then.”